


Exercise in Trust

by Agent_Bluefox



Series: X Company Short Stories [4]
Category: X Company (TV)
Genre: Again, Gen, Neil is grumpy, They both make poor decisions, mediocre writing skills on full display
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:20:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29907231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agent_Bluefox/pseuds/Agent_Bluefox
Summary: Neil and Harry are assigned together in a training exercise that doesn't go quite as planned.
Series: X Company Short Stories [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2187687





	Exercise in Trust

**Author's Note:**

> Another! I guess you could view this one as Harry and Neil's first 'mission' together.

Exercise in Trust

“You will be expected to work in the field as a team.” The instructor, an old man with greying hair and a posture so stiff it looked uncomfortable, stalked down the line of recruits, roving his steely glare over each of them in turn. 

Harry shifted his weight, careful to maintain his own posture. He’d already been chewed out once for slouching. 

“That means you must be able to rely on each member of your team,” he continued. “Your weakest link can and will bring down the entire operation.” He came to a stop before  
Harry and glared at him for a moment before moving on. “Our lesson today will be an exercise in trust. In working together as a team.”

Harry cast a surreptitious glance down the line. The recruits had been split up into smaller groups for this lesson. There were about twelve in Harry’s group, standing in two lines before Instructor Graff. Harry saw Aurora standing on the end. 

He didn’t really recognize any of the others. He had seen them around, but he had hardly had time to catch a breath in the short week he’d been here. Only one week and already so much. It felt like the instructors were trying to cram a semester’s worth of lessons and exercises into that one week. He still felt like it wasn’t quite… real. Was it only a week ago he was at the university, tinkering with his homemade radio, and worrying about passing upcoming exams? 

He suddenly became aware of Instructor Graff speaking again. He forced himself to focus. This particular instructor seemed to have it out for him personally, though he wasn’t sure why. He quickly learned not to get on the man’s bad side. Or… well… any of his sides, actually. 

“Privates Ralston and Cummings, Hogan and Lewis, Gino and Dalton,” He continued down the list of names as the ones he called broke out of line and paired up. 

Harry frowned. Had Graff said what they were doing? Darn. He must have missed something. 

“Luft and Callum,” Graff called. 

Harry’s heart sank. He had hoped he might be paired with her. She had been nice to him when they’d spoken yesterday, and he didn’t think she would make fun of him for  
having apparently missed what the exercise was. His heart sunk even further, then plummeted to his stomach when he realized there were only two names Graff had yet to call. 

Himself and—

“James and Mackay.”

Harry glanced at the other man and swallowed despite himself. Neil Mackay was a gruff-looking man who always looked vaguely irritated. Not to mention, he and Harry had already had something of a… tumultuous first encounter in the mess hall. 

Mackay brushed past him to where the other pairs were standing. Harry followed close behind, hoping he didn’t look as uneasy as he felt. 

Graff stood before the newly assigned pairing and clasped his hands behind his back. “Take note of your partner. Don’t forget who they are. You will follow me to the motor  
pool where there are two trucks waiting. You will be blindfolded and dropped off five miles from any recognizable landmark. You will have a map but no compass. You and your partner must work together to get back to camp.” He scowled. “Before sunset. The last team to arrive with have KP and latrine duty for the remainder of the week.” He looked around at each of them. “Does everyone understand?”

There was a chorus of ‘yes sirs.’

Ten minutes later, they were all piled into the two trucks, blindfolded, and told that anyone caught taking the blindfold off would be immediately kicked off the truck and expelled from camp. 

Harry decided not to chance a peek. 

He tried to keep track of where they were going, but it soon became clear that the truck was taking a strange route in order to deliberately confuse them. Taking three left  
turns, backing up, two right, one left. Before long, Harry’s sense of direction was completely muddled. 

The truck rolled to a stop after a while and Harry could hear one of the two-person teams being unloaded. The back hatch was slammed closed, and they drove on again. They did this twice more before someone tapped Harry’s arm and led him and – presumably – Neil off the truck. 

“You can take off your blindfolds in two minutes,” came a gruff voice that Harry didn’t recognize. 

The door slammed on the truck and it drove off, leaving them standing there. Harry heard the motor grow fainter, then belatedly realized he hadn’t been counting and couldn’t look at his watch to see if two minutes at passed. 

Before he could decide if an adequate time had passed, a thickly accented voice broke into his thoughts. “You gonna take that off?” 

Harry tore off the blindfold, feeling a little silly. He shoved it into his pocket and cleared his throat. 

Neil was looking at him, arms crossed over his chest. 

They were on the outskirts of the woods. Harry didn’t recognize any of his surroundings. There was no discernable road. In the distance, he could see foothills and hear a stream from somewhere nearby. “Any idea where we are?” he asked awkwardly. 

Neil glanced around, considering. “Maybe the North Pole.”

Harry stared at him. 

“That was a joke, James.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He let out a nervous laugh. “I… I knew that.” Crap. He was behaving like an idiot. “Um… you can call me Harry,” he said, hoping the slip-up wouldn’t completely  
ruin any chance he had of making a decent impression on this guy. 

“Neil,” he replied. Looking around again, he sighed. “Well, I guess we can just start walking.” With that, he took off away from the woods. 

Harry blinked and hurried after him. “Wait a minute, shouldn’t we… I don’t know, talk about where we’re going? We might just get more lost.”

Neil sighed and slowed to a stop. “You have the map?”

“Oh yeah.” He pulled the paper map from his jacket pocket and clumsily unfolded it. It was enormous, seeming to cover the entirety of eastern Canada, and Neil stepped forward to take one side. 

“Well, that narrows it down,” Neil remarked dryly. 

“Okay, um…” Harry scanned the map until he found the camp. He laid a finger on it. “Here’s where we need to get to. So… we need to find a landmark of some kind.”

Neil nodded and looked around again. “We should get away from the woods. Maybe get up on one of the foothills over there.”

Harry agreed and followed him. 

Half an hour later, they were fairly sure they knew where they were. At least roughly. Probably. 

Harry wasn’t entirely convinced to be honest. Still, it was the best they had. Following the rapidly descending sun, he was sure they were going south at the very least. He just  
hoped south was where the camp was. 

He picked his way around a fallen tree, careful not to catch his ankle in the undergrowth. “So… how did you end up here?”

Neil cast a glance over his shoulder, his voice tinged with sarcasm. “The truck dropped us off, remember?”

Harry gave him a look. 

Neil faced forward again, picking his way around the brush, and answered shortly. “I was a copper before this. Figured I couldn’t sit out the war so… I ended up here.”

Harry sighed. Apparently not a good topic of conversation. Or maybe the man was just… naturally closed off. 

“What about you?” Neil asked after a few minutes. “What’re you doing here?”

Harry scrambled around a tree, eager to keep up with the other man’s longer strides. “Well, I’m good with radios. And chemistry, like chemical reactions, inventions, stuff like that.”

Neil grunted, though Harry thought it sounded mildly approving. Or at least appraising. “What kind?”

“What?” 

“What kind of inventions?”

“Oh, all kinds of things.” He partially unfolded the map and studied it for a moment. “I came up with a type of explosive that looks and feels like flour.* It can even be baked so nobody’ll ever know it’s explosive unless you…” He trailed off and looked up. “Wait.”

Neil stopped and turned around. “What?”

“I think we’re closer to Oshawa than Newcastle.”

“Well that’s good, right? We’re closer than we thought.” 

Harry nodded after a moment. “Except, going this way, we’ll have to get across the Loewen River.”

“Can’t we go around? Or, I don’t know, across a bridge?”

“We could, but it’s way back the way we just came. Which would add at least another twenty minutes.” He peered over the edge of the map. “And I don’t know about you, but I don’t really want to be on KP duty the rest of the week.” 

Neil considered, surveying the pink sky. “Alright,” he said after a moment. “Which way do you think it is?”

They reached the river soon enough. It wasn’t too wide, but still wide enough that the only option seemed to be to wade through. The only problem was the fast moving current and an unknown depth. 

The two stood on the bank and surveyed their options. Harry shifted. “Maybe we should go back the way we came.”

“What and end up on KP?” Neil’s lips twitched into the closest thing to a smile Harry had yet seen from him. “Not gonna happen. Come on, it’s not that far. There’s some boulders over here, we can slide across.”

Harry looked at the slick boulders and stones and judged the distance. They would have to wade only part of the way, then they should be able to climb across the rocks the rest of the way. He nodded. 

Neil went first while Harry folded the map, shoving it back into his jacket and setting off after him. He drew in a sharp breath as the water seeped into his boots. It was freezing. Not to mention it would take ages for them to dry. Neil was halfway across, apparently undeterred by the frigid water, so he hurried on, clamoring up onto the first large rock, smooth and slick from the water running over it for so long. It wasn’t too hard, he just had to be careful to keep his feet firmly under him. 

Suddenly there was a splash and the sound of Neil cursing loudly and viciously. 

Harry looked up startled, to find the older man had slipped and fallen into the stream. He hurried forward as fast as he dared, not too keen on the idea of joining him. By the time he reached him, he’d already waded to shore.

“Watch for that last one,” he grumbled. “it’s slippery.”

Harry carefully stepped over the place he pointed out and made it to the shore without incident. “Are you okay?”

Neil just cursed again. He was a sorry sight, dripping wet and looking rather like a cat that had fallen into the bathtub. “I’ll be fine. Let’s just get back to camp.”

Harry found himself biting back a laugh, but Neil’s back was turned so he, thankfully, didn’t notice. After about ten paces though, he called ahead to him. “You’re limping.” And shivering, he added to himself, but he wasn’t about to point that out just yet. 

“Thanks for the observation, Sherlock Holmes.”

“Neil!” 

He shot him a vicious glare. 

“At least let me look at it. It’s only going to get worse walking on it.” With three brothers who often thought a little too highly of themselves and their physical stamina, he was pretty good at discerning when someone was injured and trying to hide it. 

Neil sighed in resignation and sat down atop a fallen log, briskly rubbing his hands over his shoulders. 

“You should take off the jacket,” Harry said. “It’s not doing any good soaking wet.” 

Neil paused, but then shrugged out of the jacket, wringing it out as best he could. 

Harry knelt down and loosened his bootlaces, gently feeling the ankle, a little surprised Neil had given in so quickly. Either he really was in pain or… maybe Harry had  
misjudged him just a little. Without even taking his boot off, he could tell it was twisted. He reported as much, and Neil cursed again. 

“I don’t think it’s too bad though,” Harry hurried to say. “I can make a wrap for it and you should be able to get back to camp.”

“What, are you a doctor now?”

Harry bit back a sarcastic retort and sat back on his heels. “I have three brothers who are almost as stubborn as you.” 

Neil raised an eyebrow at that and fell silent for a moment, staring at him as though taking stock. “Alright then. Thank you,” he added shortly after a moment. 

“No problem.” Harry took off his jacket and button-down shirt. He wore a wool undershirt underneath as well, so he wasn’t too worried about getting cold. Taking his  
pocketknife, he cut the back of the shirt out into a long strip and slipped back into his jacket before pausing and regarding the boot. “This might hurt,” he warned. 

“I’ve had worse.”

Harry jerked the boot off and began wrapping the remains of his shirt tightly around the ankle and foot until he was pretty sure it wasn’t going to move much. Then he  
carefully slid the boot back on and tied the laces loosely. He looked up. “How’s that feel?” 

“Better, actually. Thanks.” He sounded more sincere this time. 

“How’s the cold?” It didn’t escape his notice that he was shivering pretty violently. 

Neil shrugged. “I’ll be fine.” 

Harry looked up at the sky that was now a deep purple. “Something tells me we’re not going to make it in time.”

“Eh, we can give it a go anyway. Maybe we’ll get lucky and one of the other teams got completely lost.”

Harry grinned and helped him stand, grabbing his still wet jacket. 

The two of them stumbled upon the front gate almost an hour later, the sun long gone and the searchlights landing on them when they approached. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. The cold had steadily been growing worse, and he had draped his jacket over Neil’s shoulders a while ago. The fact that the man hadn’t protested, spoke to how cold he was. 

Instructor Graff seemed to have been waiting for them, storming over as soon as they were inside the gate. Harry almost groaned. 

“What were my orders?” He demanded. “Before sunset, I said. Did you somehow forget? Are you merely incompetent? The last group arrived back nearly forty minutes ago.”

Harry blinked and spluttered, trying to explain that it really had been out of their control. Neil cut him off though. 

“I twisted my ankle,” he said, his voice shaking a little with the cold. “That’s my fault, not private James’s.” He didn’t seem to notice Harry staring at him. “Private James showed. initiative. He wrapped my ankle and made sure we both made it back safely, if a little late.”

Graff paused, then shook his head. “He disobeyed orders—”

“Orders that should have been disobeyed when a member of his team was injured,” Neil cut him off, his tone leaving no room for argument. 

Harry glanced, wide-eyed between the two of them. That was… high praise. Especially coming from someone he hardly knew who had seemed to be permanently ticked off at him hardly an hour ago. 

Instructor Graff fell silent for a moment and chewed his lip, glancing between the two of them with narrowed eyes, then down at the ankle Neil was favoring. Finally, he straightened. “Private James, you did good work. Mackay, get to the infirmary, get that ankle checked out and get out of those wet clothes. Dismissed.” He turned to go before  
stopping and turning. “Oh, regardless of the circumstances, both of you are on KP and Latrine duty. You can decide for yourselves who gets which.”

**Author's Note:**

> *The flour that Harry is talking about was actually a real invention of the OSS (Office of Strategic Services). It was called 'Aunt Jemima.' 
> 
> "Aunt Jemima (the name of a popular brand of American pancake flour) could be baked and consumed without exploding, although ingesting it was generally not encouraged. The explosive powder, once perfected, was packaged in flour bags and easily trafficked through Japanese check-points to the Chinese resistance-fighters. If ordered to demonstrate that the contents of their flour bags were indeed flour, the smuggler could whip up an authentic-tasting loaf and consume it right in front of his doubters."  
> -taken from Military-history.org
> 
> This type of training mission, dropping recruits miles away from camp or base, was used in training SOE agents. This is a pared down example of such a test (usually they were taken far enough away that it would take much longer to get back), but it's got the same idea. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! Comments, criticisms, and suggestions are all welcome!


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